Phobia
by ALEO
Summary: Having someone else discover a phobia you didn’t even know you had and then use it against you on the same day, is just not fair. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Numb3rs: Phobia

**Numb3rs: Phobia**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

_Having someone else discover a phobia you didn't even know you had and then use it against you on the same day, is just not fair._

-100-1111-1110-

Standing on the bridge of the warship Special Agent Don Eppes looked at the smiling faces of his team amongst the other FBI agents and thought that this was well worth the hour and a half drive.

The USS Paul Hamilton, an Arleigh Burke Class Guided Missile Destroyer was docked at Port Hueneme Naval Base outside LA. Normally the two branches of the government, defence and justice were kept apart but the FBI based in LA had just helped solve a jewellery smuggling ring involving the ship. The land based FBI had detected the offences and subsequent investigations implicated sailors onboard the naval ship. Some inter-agency cooperation followed with the result that the sailers were arrested and charged by the navy and the jewellery was recovered and returned to the rightful owners by the FBI. The navy had been happy with the way the operation had run and had invited the FBI team involved to visit for a private tour of the ship. The FBI, like any police or military department, had a more than efficient internal information system. The navy would call it scuttlebutt. It wasn't long before the team of three were supplemented by a cross section of agents. Don and his team were some of the tag-alongs.

It was strange to have this many agents together, all wearing official FBI windbreakers, in one place and not be involved in a raid. The windbreakers were essential as most of the agents were still on duty or on call and were still armed. Without a uniform the windbreaker and visible ID tags were necessary to show that they were authorised visitors and be allowed to board the warship whilst bearing arms.

The ship's officer taking the tour started moving off and the group followed. So far they'd been on the aft deck looking at the missile hatches and torpedo launchers before visiting the foredeck and then the bridge. They'd taken two different routes internally through the ship to move between the stern and the bow after coming aboard at the quarterdeck. The positive flow air pressure maintained inside the ship had been unexpected but totally understandable.

They were now heading for the star attraction, the CIC. The bridge had been cool with a great view from that altitude over the harbour. Not to mention all the screens that would feed the crew information from all the electronics onboard. Naturally the officer was a little reticent on providing too much information but had answered as many questions as he could. Don still thought it was odd that with all that technology there were some large glass boards, similar to those back in the FBI office used by Charlie, hung above some of the workstations and filled in by hand.

On his way across the rear of the bridge Don again saw the clinometer, the slowly setting sun making the red fluid level glow with a life of its own. His attention was drawn again to a handwritten mark showing the maximum experienced heel of the ship, _'35 degrees, 16 May 2005, 1530'_. He shook his head in amazement, he doubted that the steel cables strung overhead as handholds across the bridge would have been much good at that angle of heel. It would have been one wild ride.

Looking away from the note on the face of the instrument he realised that he had fallen way behind, he was alone on the bridge. He couldn't resist another glance at the setting sun, dropping behind the hills in the distance. It was rare that he would have the opportunity to see it. Don turned away and hurried to catch up, heading out the hatchway and down the companionway some distance behind everyone else.

Two full flights below him Don could see the group leave the companionway and head off down a short corridor. He continued down and was about to follow when he saw furtive movement out of the corner of his eye. A figure had started into an adjacent corridor before catching sight of him. The sailor appeared startled, froze then ducked back the way he had come clutching a bag close to his side. Don's finely honed instinct told him something was very wrong about the man's behaviour. Without a second thought he turned aside and headed in the man's direction.

He took the turn and saw the man's heel as his quarry took another passage at the end of the corridor. Don hurried to catch up. The man seemed to be in a hurry to disappear. He heard a clatter of footfalls and reasoned that his quarry had gone down the companionway ahead of him. He followed, his haste making it impossible to be silent. As they progressed deeper into the ship he was a little surprised not to pass anyone else, even with a lot of the crew on shore leave. That was nothing compared to the surprise around the next bulkhead.

He stepped over the combing of a watertight door, straight into a well aimed fist. His trailing foot hooked on the lip and down he went. The punch had partially stunned him, enough that his hands wouldn't obey his command to break his fall. The hard deck completed the process the punch had started and the world went away for a while.

There were hands tugging at him before the brief sensation of falling. The next thing he noticed were two, clearly unhappy, voices.

"You idiot! You led him right to us."

"He was chasing me."

There was the sound of a slap. "So you don't lead him here!"

"What are we going to do now?"

"I have no idea. How about you think of something? This is your mess."

"No one asked you to flatten him." The voice sounded a little petulant.

"What was I supposed to do, let him arrest us?"

Don finally worked up the energy to shake his head trying to clear out the fuzz. _Owww!_ Not a good idea, someone started pounding away with a hammer inside his skull. He lifted his right hand up to the side of his head which seemed to be the main area of hammering and wondered why his left moved as well.

"Hey, the fed's awake."

Hands grabbed at his arms and he was hauled up to a seated position. He was released and started to fall back until he was stopped by a wall. Don blinked and managed to open his eyes, recovering rapidly. At least the little man with the hammer was starting to tire, his head wasn't hurting as much. And that was saying something, it still hurt far more than he would like. He squinted against the light that seemed a little too bright and saw two sailors standing over him. One was in naval issue overalls and the other was in civilian clothing. Both looked young, neither of the two could have been over twenty-five years old.

The first thing he looked for were weapons and it came as no surprise to him that yes, one man was armed. Don glanced at his own waist, the windbreaker was partially covering his holster but he could see enough to tell that it was empty. That explained why the sailor in the overalls was pointing a Glock just like his straight at him, it _was_ his. The other man had no visible weapons.

Looking down had also answered his other question, why his left hand had mirrored his right, he was bound. The cord was firmly wrapped around his wrists, tight but not cutting off the circulation. The knot work was impressive, reminding him of the fancy knot work on the ship's bell, the rope worked to look like an Admiralty anchor. These knots, though somewhat less fancy, would take some working on to pull loose. He wasn't getting his hands untied any time soon. For a moment he was confused as to why they hadn't used his handcuffs on him, they were much more secure than a bit of cord. _Then again_, he took another glance at the knots, _maybe not. _He came to the conclusion that the sailors probably preferred to stick to what they knew. He noticed that he could still feel the weight of his cuffs hanging off the back of his belt indicating that perhaps he hadn't been searched yet. Don guessed he hadn't been unconscious for long but obviously long enough for them to bind and move him.

The two men continued staring at him so he took the moment and glanced around the room. It was small and filled with all manner of dials, taps and pipe work. A nice big, not so friendly, red sign warned of the asphyxiation risk from Halon. He figured he was in a Halon control room; they'd passed one or two on their tour. He knew that the gas was extremely efficient at putting out fires and for that reason was still used by the military. But he also knew that it was equally efficient at killing anyone trying to breathe it. A gun going off in here with the two airtight doors closed as they were could be deadly even if the bullet missed a living target, a Halon filled pipe would do the trick. Don looked back up at the two men.

"Hi guys." He tried for cheerful. "Is this part of the tour?"

"Tour? What tour?"

"Idiot." 'Overalls' said again as he used his spare hand to smack the other one none too gently on the back of the head. He didn't look too happy. "He was with the group of feds getting that tour. You could have walked right past him and he wouldn't have even noticed you."

"What tour?" The other man repeated, looking confused.

"You didn't read this morning's briefing report?"

"I didn't bother, I have the day off. Besides I was getting the stuff." The man glanced at a sailor's sea bag sitting on the floor in the corner.

"So because you 'couldn't be bothered' we're in this mess."

"Uh, guys? I could go elsewhere if you would like some privacy." Don offered as the argument looked likely to ramp up. It worked, the argument stopped but on the downside Don got a nice close-up view of the business end of his own gun. He sighed, sometimes you just couldn't win.

"You're not going anywhere, Fed."

Another sigh, _these people just had to stop watching TV_. Too many clichés. "Happy to sit right here, guys. No problem."

The two sailors looked a little surprised at the agent's flippancy. "You don't think we're serious do you?" Overalls commented.

"Oh, I think you're serious alright." Don admitted. His voice took on a firmer tone. "In serious trouble if this goes on any longer."

"Well unfortunately," the sailor turned and laid a glare on his companion. "What's done is done and we have to play this out."

"Okay. So aside from assaulting a federal agent and kidnapping what else are you guys into?" There had to be a reason why the first man had rabbited the way he did. _What was in the bag?_ There were indications that it contained more than just personal effects.

Overalls followed his gaze before turning back. "What we are into is none of your concern. What is your concern is what is going to happen to you."

"Fair enough, I'll run with that." The man had a very valid point.

"Good." Overalls leant down and read the ID tag hanging from Don's windbreaker. "So shut up Special Agent Don Eppes and let me think."

"Hey, if we are making introductions how about you tell me your names?" Real names would be good, much better than calling this one 'Overalls' and the other 'Civvies'.

"You can call me 'Sir'."

"Sir?" Don queried with more than a little degree of scorn, it seemed that Overalls was taking a power trip. "You don't look like an officer; it looks like you work for a living."

"Wise ass, hey?"

"That's why they gave me this windbreaker."

"I'd take this gun over your windbreaker any day. Got it?"

Another view down the barrel. "Got it." The sailor backed off. Don peered more closely at the armed man's overalls, reading off the name that was embroidered on the patch over the breast pocket. "Okay then. I'll call you Martin and in lieu of anything better I'll call your friend here 'Idiot'."

The man dressed in civvies flared up, stepping forward with a fist raised.

"Don't let him rile you." Martin directed before turning back to the agent. His voice took on a warning note. "No one else calls him 'idiot'. His name is Tod."

Don saw the widening of the eyes and the jaw drop, the sailor had given the other man's real name. The agent looked a little closer and came to a startling conclusion. The men were related, possibly even brothers. He let that go, for now he had some names, the rest would come later.

"So, as you pointed out earlier, my concern is what you intend to do with me. You haven't shot me yet, so either you are worried about breaching a Halon pipe or you want me alive for something." He hoped. The joking around was a front, this was no laughing matter and it was obvious he was in some strife. How much was what he was trying to figure. His snarky attitude had already gained him some information and he was hoping it would get him some more. That he was still alive was a big plus. The fact that they hadn't used the gun was a minor point, unless they were worried about the noise. There were plenty of ways to kill a man without making any noise, especially if he were unconscious.

"That's the part we were working on when you came to." Martin admitted. Despite seeming reasonably confident and in charge he did seem to be at a loss for what to do next.

"I could offer some suggestions."

"I'm sure you could." Martin scoffed. "No offence, but I think we'll come up with something."

"No offence taken." The more he chatted to them like old pals the less likely they were to shoot him out of hand. Or so the theory went.

-1101-101-111-1-1110-

"Now this is what I call a war-room." Megan said turning to the shadowy figure beside her.

"Huh?"

Megan peered at the man's face, not Don. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else."

It was hard to see in the matt black painted CIC, the few overhead lights seemed to make the room dimmer rather than provide actual illumination. She finally recognised the man, an agent from the fraud section. No wonder he was a little off put by her comment, they hardly needed a war-room, unlike the violent crimes squad. The other agent moved off as she started to look for her boss. She saw Colby and David eyeing off some of the equipment, even with all the screens darkened they were enthusing over the capabilities of the room. Another minute and she was sure, no Don.

"Hey guys, you see where Don went?"

Colby and David tore their attention away from the equipment and each flicked their eyes around the room.

"I haven't seen him since we were on the bridge." David finally said.

"Nah, me either." Colby added. "C'mon Megan, he's probably ducked off to the head or something."

"Uh, yeah. I guess." It was reasonable, she supposed.


	2. Chapter 2

Numb3rs: Phobia

**Numb3rs: Phobia**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

_A/N: Hi everyone. Yes I'm back, finally. It has been hectic few months and now that things are starting to settle down I find I am able to write again. I'm going to be moving into the new house in a couple of weeks and things should get back to normal once again. Enjoy!_

-100-1111-1110-

The two sailors went into a huddle, speaking in hushed tones. Don tried but couldn't quite follow what they were saying due to the other ship's noises that successfully drowned them out.

"How did you get here today, Agent?" Martin finally asked.

Why it made any difference he wasn't sure. "I drove."

"Alone?"

Actually he had. He was supposed to bring the rest of the team with him in the SUV. The only problem was he was also supposed to go straight to Charlie's after work for dinner. To make that drive from here and arrive at a reasonable hour required that he avoid the worst of the peak hour traffic in LA. That meant avoiding the FBI Field Office. The rest of the team had no plans and offered to come separately in another vehicle. "Yes."

Martin returned to his private conversation with Tod. Don watched closely and soon their body language changed, their expressions suddenly positive and relieved. They had come to a conclusion that worked for them. Don wondered if it would work for him.

"Stand up." Martin ordered, returning to face the agent.

This didn't sound so good. Don struggled to his feet, a little woozy still from the blows to his head.

"Turn around. Assume the position."

Don turned and leant against the wall, finding a couple of relatively safe areas in amongst the fittings to brace his forearms as far apart as he could to maintain his balance in anticipation of what might come next. Sure enough, his feet were kicked apart, _definitely too many movies or well meaning cop shows_. He was then searched and his cell phone, handcuffs, keys and wallet were taken. Once they had decided he was clean he was allowed to turn around and the gun jerked downwards in an obvious command to sit once again. He complied and watched silently as they searched the contents of his wallet before it was unexpectedly tossed back at him. A little surprised he picked it up out of his lap and with difficulty slid it into a pocket on his windbreaker.

"We got enough going on Agent that we don't need to rob you of a lousy couple of hundred bucks." Martin explained.

"You're too kind."

Martin curled his lip a little at that but made no other comment. He had a closer look at the car keys in his hand. "Chevy. What sort?"

"Suburban."

"Cool. Where?"

"Parking lot." _Where else?_

Martin suddenly crouched and pushed the muzzle of the gun hard up under Don's chin forcing his head back. "If you keep playing games I might decide it will be easier just to kill you."

_A little bit too much snark there, Donny_, he thought to himself. With his neck stretched back it was hard to talk but he managed. "No games." The gun remained. "Lot closest to the dock. Black suburban. Government tags."

"Very funny. I'm sure there are a few of those down there today."

Very true, but only one would respond to the key tag remote. With the gun still firmly in place he decided not to point that out, instead rattling off the number on the plate.

"Better." The sailor moved back. He held the SUV keys out to the younger man.

"You sure?"

Martin looked a little exasperated. Don sympathised, little brothers could do that. "We just talked about this. Take the SUV and park it somewhere out of sight. They'll think he left."

Tod looked at Don as if seeking his opinion on the matter. Don for his part kept his face neutral, it was actually a good idea but he didn't want them to know that.

"What about the stuff? What if they find his truck and search it?"

"If they are looking for it in the first place it really makes no difference, they'll know something is wrong."

"But they'll take the stuff."

"Well then we'll get it back, won't we?"

"Why don't you do it?"

"I'm on duty."

"But what if the feds see me?"

Martin resorted to slapping Tod on the back of his head. It looked like a familiar routine between the two. "This is your mess I'm fixing. You have to take some of the risk. If they do arrest you I've still got him, remember?"

"Oww!" Tod rubbed at the back of his head eying off Don as he did so, seemingly blaming him for the clip to the head.

"If you don't like that plan, I can suggest another." Don offered.

"Shut up!" Martin snapped. He didn't even look at the seated agent. He raised his hand and pointed at one of the airtight doors. "Tod, move it."

The other man moved, grabbing the bag before opening the hatch cautiously and stepping out. As it was dogged back into place Don turned his attention back to Martin. "If you are meant to be working won't they miss you?"

"Not for a while yet. Besides, this is one of my duty stations."

Speaking of being missed, Don's cell took that moment to start ringing. This deep in the ship he wouldn't have thought it was possible to have cell reception. The ship must have been wired to allow for phone transmissions, either that or it was some freak effect of all the pipes.

Martin pulled the offending phone from his pocket, glanced at the display then presented the screen to Don. "Who is it?"

The screen showed the caller ID as 'Megan'. Don thought furiously. Which way should he play this? Tell them that the caller was his girlfriend, his boss, his partner or housekeeper? Which would give him the best result, warning Megan that he was in trouble without alerting the sailor? Was warning her even the best option at this point? It all came down to what they were intending to do with him and that was an unknown. On the other hand, Martin was pointing a gun at him, which was plenty intention enough.

"My boss." Don decided.

"If you don't answer?"

"She'll be pissed."

"Is she here?"

"Yeah."

"Answer it. Tell her you've had to leave."

-1101-101-111-1-1110-

Megan tapped her fingers on the back of her cell in impatience. How long did it take to answer a call? Finally a click and an open line.

"_Hello? This is Special Agent Eppes."_

That wasn't right. Where was the clipped 'Eppes' that normally greeted a caller? "Don?"

"_Yes, Boss?"_

"Don, what-?"

"_Boss, I'm sorry, but I had to leave in a hurry."_

"Don why-?"

"_Hot tip. I'm on my way now."_

"Don, I need-"

"_I know. I promise I'll get it to you first thing. I'm a bit tied up right now though. I have to go."_ The line went dead.

Megan stared at her phone in consternation. _Just what the hell was going on with Don?_ _And what was with the whole 'boss' thing?_ She'd had a few strange calls from her team leader before; sometimes it was hard to tell if he was joking around. He had deadpan down pat. But something didn't seem quite right this time. She dialled again but the phone went to voice mail. She hesitated, if he really had gone to a job of some sort it was reasonable that he might have now diverted his phone. _Nah, something was wrong_.

She caught David and Colby's attention, waving them over. The first thing that they had to do was find out whether he really had left or not. The best way to do that was to go and check on his SUV parked a short distance from their sedan in the lot near the ship.

-100-1111-1110-

Don pressed the 'end' button and closed the phone. It had been close, Martin insisting on the phone being on speaker just as Don had answered it. He'd had to cut Megan off to prevent her from blowing the whole thing. But the call would have achieved his purpose, he was sufficiently out of character to start setting off her alarm bells. A hand appeared in his field of view and he surrendered the phone.

He looked up to see Martin frowning a little. He waited but no comment was made, Martin didn't know him so really didn't have anything to base any suspicions on. Don had complied with his order, not saying anything that could immediately cause alarm.

"So what now?"

"When Tod comes back I go back to work. When it gets late we'll be on our way."

Despite his earlier offers to make suggestions Don remained silent. This plan was one that worked in his favour. If the two sailors had taken off now they had a real chance of escaping. By delaying, the odds shifted more to Don's side for at least two main reasons. If they were planning on leaving Don behind then a search would be in earnest by then and he should be quickly located. It they were intending on taking him with them then it was that more likely that base security and navy police would be in a position to stop them.

Martin smiled. "You even get to help us take the stuff off the base."

That answered that question, he was going with them. And raised another, were these two connected to the jewellery smuggling ring that they'd thought completely broken? He thought back to the sea bag. "What is this 'stuff' you keep going on about?"

"None of your business."

"Whatever." So, he wasn't going to get anywhere with that line of inquiry. Don shrugged and leant back against the wall, the very picture of boredom. He watched for a few minutes but things appeared stable for now, Martin leaning against the opposite wall. The agent shifted to a slightly more comfortable position and allowed his eyes to close. Whilst the pounding in his head had eased, he still had a killer headache and some rest was about all he could do for himself just now.

Tod returned about half an hour later, carrying a small backpack which he dumped on the deck just inside the door as he closed it.

"What took you so long?" Martin demanded.

"They know something is wrong."

The other man glared at their captive. Don stared blandly back, daring Martin to find fault with anything that he had done. He'd been the model hostage.

Tod continued. "There were agents hanging around in the parking lot when I came back. They asked me if I'd seen him and described his SUV."

"What did you tell them?"

"That I'd seen his truck leave the gate a while ago."

Martin nodded. "That should buy us some time."

Don doubted it. If they were asking around they wouldn't leave it at that. With no answer on his cell phone now that Martin had turned it off, they would try his radio. The next step would be the GPS on his SUV and that's when it would all fall apart. The guard on the gate would also confirm that he had never left. Megan would ensure that the military implemented a search. In the interim however there was nothing much he could do.

Tod dug into his bag and pulled out a length of light rope. "Will this do?"

"That will be fine." He turned to see Don looking at him with a degree of concern. He indicated the agent's bound hands. "You didn't think I was going to leave you alone with my brother like that did you?"

"The thought crossed my mind." He'd been doing some planning. Tod was the weakest link of the two. He was hardly a professional at keeping a prisoner under control and could be pushed into making a mistake. Even bound, Don was willing to take advantage of an opportunity if he managed to create one. Martin had obviously done some planning of his own.

"Exactly. Lay down on your stomach."

Don held his position for a second or two but reluctantly decided that he had no other option than to cooperate. He was already at risk, but on the plus side Martin had already indicated that they wanted him alive. The man was just going to make sure that Don didn't get himself, or Tod killed. He slid down onto his side and then rolled onto his stomach, his hands trapped uncomfortably beneath him. He didn't resist as his ankles were drawn together and bound. He did mount an objection however at the next step in Martin's plan.

.


	3. Chapter 3

Numb3rs: Phobia

**Numb3rs: Phobia**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

-100-1111-1110-

Don had been watching Martin work as best he could and had thought the man had finished when he sat back. He then noticed there was a length of rope left loose after the knots had been tied. Martin started to tie another knot and Don suddenly understood what the sailor was planning.

"Ah, Martin?" He began, apprehension clear in his voice. "I'd really rather you left that part out."

"I'm sure you would."

"Martin. I'm serious."

The sailor realised that Don's attitude had completely changed. He stopped and met the agent's eyes briefly before continuing with the knot. "About time you took this for real."

"I've seen people die from that. I give you my word, it is not necessary." He was starting to get desperate.

The loop was now completed. Martin's next move would be to put it around Don's neck and tighten the joining length of rope to force his legs up behind him, putting pressure on his throat. Normally the victim's hands were behind the back and the line looped through but even though his hands were still in front of him, the end result would likely be the same. After a while he would tire of holding his legs up to relieve the pressure on his neck and the noose would strangle him. He doubted Martin intended for that to happen but that was not the point. It was a likely result and not a pleasant way to die. Another unwanted influence from television, it looked impressive trussing a prisoner up that way but Don had seen firsthand a victim of the technique.

It had been not long after leaving the academy, one of his first homicide scenes in fact. It had taken some time to get the man's face and the horror of his death out of his mind. Since then he'd seen so much death over the years, some of which he'd even caused himself and the memory had finally faded to be virtually forgotten. So he was a little surprised at his immediate reaction to the loop of rope. It made no sense that his heart was racing and his palms were becoming sweaty. Don recognised he was in the early signs of panic at the thought of Martin placing the loop of rope around his neck. It was all he could think about just now, all that he could see was the rope around that other man's neck, the look on his swollen and blackened face. Johan Fredericks had died hard.

Martin hesitated, staring again into Don's eyes. He could see the fear. Then a slow smile curved his lips. The agent's smart assed attitude had really annoyed him, after already being in a bad mood because of Tod's actions. Here was a gift wrapped way to get his own back. He lengthened the cord between Don's ankles and the loop, retying one of the knots. He then reached towards the agent's head with the loop.

Don bucked, changing the position of his bound hands under his body, creating leverage. He pushed, starting to lift his torso and twist. His resistance was short lived, Tod jumped in before he'd risen more than a couple of inches and forced Don back down through the simple expedient of kneeling on his back. Don had seen this before as well, being restrained in this way could result in what was known in law enforcement circles as 'positional asphyxia'. He had to get a grip and control himself. To struggle now would cause Tod and Martin to expend energy forcing him down. As it became increasingly difficult to breathe his body would fight harder creating a vicious circle of action and consequence. His ribcage would be crushed and in the end he would likely die from being unable to breathe.

He closed his eyes and clamped his teeth together, forcing himself not to move. It took all of his willpower. The weight on his back eased, Tod relaxing slightly as Don stopped fighting. He could breathe again and that was the main thing for now. There was the sensation of something brushing against the top of his head and he had to talk firmly to himself to hold still. _The loop had been lengthened, it would not strangle him._ He repeated it like a mantra. Despite that he found himself breathing in short gasps as the rope settled loosely around his neck. The restriction on his throat may have been imagined, but felt real enough.

Abruptly the weight eased off his back. He automatically rolled onto his side, realising only now that having his arms crushed between his body and the deck had hurt. He froze in a moment of panic then became aware that the rope about his neck had not tightened from his unthinking action.

Martin wasn't finished yet. A length of cord was produced from a side pocket on his overalls. Pulling out a pocket knife he cut off some knot work from the end. So that was where the cord had come from, Martin really was into fancy knots. Don's bound hands were grabbed and forced down towards his waist. The short length was then used to secure his hands to his belt taking away any chance he had at dealing with the loop around his neck.

"Any trouble Special Agent Eppes and Tod will pull on this bit of rope here." Martin explained dangling the end of the rope in front of Don's eyes. "You understand what will happen then?"

"Yes." Don managed. The adjusted knot meant that pulling on the end of rope would reduce the distance between his ankles and his neck placing him into the position he wanted to avoid. For now he was able to lie with his legs fully extended without pressure on his neck. "I gave you my word, you don't have to do this."

"Not so funny now is it?" Martin taunted. He stood and handed the gun to his brother. "Here. Don't leave him alone. I'll check on you when I can and bring you something later."

"I've got some food." Tod nodded at the backpack lying on the floor in the corner.

"Good work." His tone leaving no doubt that it was about time his brother did something right.

It was Martin now who left the small room, leaving Tod to secure the hatch. He then put a bright red sign pulled from a hook beside the hatch over the small view port. Something akin to 'out of order', 'no admittance' or 'gas leak' Don suspected.

"I guess I'm not the idiot anymore then, am I Fed?" Tod gloated. He shook his head in disgust. "Scared of a bit of rope."

Don didn't bother dignifying that with a response, although one came rapidly to his lips and needed firm control to bite back. In Tod's current frame of mind the younger man could easily go from guarding a hostage to torturing one. He'd given Tod that power over him, he wasn't going to provoke him into using it.

Against his nature Don forced his gaze downwards so he wouldn't appear to be challenging the other man but watched him closely for a while. Tod settled himself down on the opposite side of the narrow space, leaning back against the wall managing to avoid any taps or switches. The younger man dug into the backpack and came up with a bar of chocolate and started eating. The agent felt that any immediate threat had passed and turned his attention inwards. He had some thinking to do.

The real threat at the moment was not so much the man sitting across from him with a gun at his side but the fear reaction induced by the rope. Ironically those that had put him into this position had given him the best opportunity to resolve this burgeoning phobia. He was aware that familiarity through exposure to the stressor was the way that most psychiatrists cured their patients of such fears or to at the very least enable the patient to function in the face of the fear. He needed that, needed to be able to function as an agent despite the rope that burned against his neck.

His time with Bradford had given him skills that he was able to employ now during this enforced period of delay. Skills he used to first of all acknowledge his own control, that he'd been able to halt his near panicked physical reaction and identify the greater threat posed by positional asphyxiation. That whilst in that state he had still maintained the ability to process data and respond was a huge positive. The new phobia wasn't yet all consuming and could be controlled. By carrying through and placing the rope about his neck Martin had probably done the best thing for him. Leaving the loop off would have made the imagined threat greater than the current reality. The reality was that he could still breathe and was not going to die from the rope being about his neck. _At least not right now_, he couldn't help but qualify.

His pulse quickened again at the though but he recovered faster this time. The likelihood that Martin and Tod would use the loop of rope against him was strong, he'd shown more fear to that than the gun. Don was pragmatic enough to know that a few hours introspection was not going to cure him from the perfectly reasonable fear of strangulation. He just had to be able to function, to think, plan and act no matter what they did to him. That was the hard part.

-1101-101-111-1-1110-

"Agent Reeves," the ship's commanding officer started patiently. "I understand you are concerned and I've started a ship wide search. But you have to understand that with most of the crew ashore on leave it is going to take some time. Plus you wouldn't believe the number of places someone could hide on a ship this size." The USS Paul Hamilton was 550 feet long and housed a crew of over 330.

Megan shook her head. She knew all that but she was worried about her boss. They had searched the parking lot and had asked passing sailors whether his SUV had been seen leaving. One had seen it leave but inquiries with the gate had only shown a record of the vehicle entering the base, not leaving. She was now in the Captain's office. The other FBI agents were waiting on the quarterdeck having been briefed that one of their own was missing.

"I realise that. But you don't know Agent Eppes. Something has happened to him, he has no reason to hide. His vehicle had been deliberately hidden which proves foul play." After Colby had checked the gate footage and failed to see Don's SUV leaving she had called the field office and had the techs ping the GPS locator. They had called with a result only a few minutes later. The beacon had led them directly to the vehicle parked deep in a large warehouse and hidden under a tarpaulin. The warehouse was a short distance from the parking lot and was used to maintain the navy's smaller boats. David was there now going over the suburban to see what he could find to help them. Megan had come straight back to the ship to report the discovery.

"It does seem odd. We are doing all that we can. As you know base security are also mounting a landside search."

"I've got nearly twenty agents just standing around on your deck. Let us help search."

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. You of all people would understand that I have security issues."

Megan snorted. They were FBI agents and had also sworn an oath of service to the United States. She didn't find 'security issues' to be sufficiently important in the scheme of things when compared with finding Don. She opened her mouth but he beat her to it.

"No, Agent." Commander Sagan said firmly. "I mean no offence but I can't allow it. Your people can wait there or landside, whichever they prefer but that is the best I can do. We will find your boss, you just have to realise it will take time, assuming he is even still on this ship."

"He is. I know he is." The way his SUV had been moved and hidden told her that much. Someone had gone to the effort to make it seem that he had left. Don had even been forced to tell her so during that phone call some time ago now which explained why he'd called her 'boss' and had sounded so unlike himself. He'd been sending a message. It had taken her too long to figure it out, Don's _'I'm a bit tied up right now'_ should have been obvious.

"Please Agent, let my people do their jobs. I'll notify you as soon as we have something."

Megan recognised the dismissal, as did the other officer in the room assigned as a liaison. The woman opened the door and motioned the agent out. Reluctantly Megan went, knowing as Sagan turned away that the man was thinking of other scenarios. That was fine by her, it didn't really matter whether he thought Don was being held against his will or was sneaking about the ship up to no good. Either way it was incentive for the missing agent to be found and found as quickly as they could manage.

She briefed the agents waiting on the quarterdeck. They wanted to join the search but without jurisdiction and without permission they had no option but to stand around and wait. It was frustrating. They knew they could be ordered off the ship and even the base and had no rights to challenge such orders were they to be issued. Despite it being dark no one was inclined to leave until they found out what had happened.

Megan made her way down the gangplank to the dock and the waiting vehicle assigned to take her back to Don's SUV. At this time it was the only real clue as to what had happened to her boss and why.

.


	4. Chapter 4

Numb3rs: Phobia

**Numb3rs: Phobia**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

_A/N: I tried but could not find the name of this phobia. The closest was Linonophobia (fear of string) or Merinthophobia (fear of being bound or tied up). Neither was quite right for fear-of-rope or fear-of-strangulation. Anyone know the answer to this question? _

-100-1111-1110-

A cell phone buzzing disturbed Don's thoughts and he looked over to see Tod answering the call.

"What? How-?" He listened some more, nodding his head. He glanced at his watch, "Okay."

The phone was put away and Tod stood. Don watched warily as the man approached and couldn't help but stiffen as the end of the rope was picked up. Tod looked pointedly at the gun in his right hand then took up the slack in the rope with his left. Don felt the loop move in response even though the rope had not actually slid through the knot or tightened. The discomfort from lying still on his side on the hard deck for the last couple of hours vanished. He struggled to control his breathing as his heart began racing.

"There is a search party coming. My brother is part of it and will check this room. There are others with him. If you even look like trying anything I will yank on this rope. Understand?"

If Tod pulled the rope hard enough the loop would tighten immediately and he would not be able to relieve the pressure. He knew that raising the alarm if others were present would bring him aid, however with the gun Tod would be able to hold them off long enough for Don to strangle. That wasn't a viable option for him so he would remain silent. He nodded.

"Tough guy." Tod muttered.

_Swap places with me bud, see how you feel._ Don managed to keep the words trapped safely inside his head, saying them out loud would not be the smartest thing he could do. He was far from happy with his acquiescence but there was no other choice for now.

Five minutes later there were voices outside the Halon control room.

"Why we have to search for some stupid fed that can't stick with the rest of his group I don't know." A man grumbled.

"I hear you." Martin commiserated.

"We were supposed to have long been off shift." The man continued complaining, definitely not happy. "We should have had dinner hours ago yet here we are traipsing all over this boat."

"Then the sooner we're through, the sooner we eat. You check that side, I'll check here."

There was a tapping at the door, as if Martin was indicating his choice of room to search. Tod tensed and tightened his grip on both the gun and the rope. The door opened a few inches and Martin's face appeared. The sailor's eyes flicked first to their captive then up to his brother. He winked and Tod grinned in reply.

Martin made his report as he closed the door and dogged it. "Not in here either."

The other man muttered something in reply and the voices faded away.

Tod flicked the rope to see what reaction he could get from the agent. Nothing. He was a little disappointed but dropped the rope and returned to his spot on the other side of the room. He still managed a smirk on his face. "Piece of cake."

Don had won a small victory, controlling his expression and giving no external reaction to the deliberate attempt by Tod to scare him when he twitched the rope. More positive reinforcement, but he had a long way to go before he would ever be able to say that a rope around his neck didn't faze him.

He knew for sure now that the alarm had been fully raised, the ship was being searched for him and although this first sweep had failed there would be more. Megan would be starting to raise all sorts of hell ensuring that he would be found.

Martin and his brother may have been feeling confident now as evidenced by the wink and grin but Don knew that their luck would not hold forever.

-1101-101-111-1-1110-

Megan followed the female officer back into the captain's office. As agreed she was to get an update on the progress of the search.

"We've drawn a blank on the first sweep." Commander Sagan reported. "We'll start again –"

"No." Megan interrupted. She'd given their options some thought and had come up with an idea. But first there was something she needed to know. "Have you let on to your crew that we've found the SUV?"

"No." He was puzzled at where the agent was leading.

"Good. Call off the search."

Sagan seemed taken aback. The agent had pushed him to start the search and had complained that it wasn't going to be thorough enough if he didn't allow her colleagues to take part. Now she wanted him to back right off? "Agent, what –"

"Call it off. Let the word get out that we think Agent Eppes is no longer on board the ship. Restrict access to those already off the ship but let those who want to leave the ship do so."

"Ah. You think he is still onboard, being held by one or more of my crew. You want them to think it is all clear so that they make their move to try and escape."

"Exactly. They can't help but know by now that we are onto them and they've managed to keep Agent Eppes secured. If we let them think that having failed in the shipboard search we now believe their misdirection to be correct then they will make the next move. Continuing the search now will just push them further into hiding." _Or push them into getting rid of the subject of the search_, she added to herself.

He gave the proposal some thought before nodding. "Alright. I can give that a go. I suggest you move your people landside so that it looks like you believe Agent Eppes has left. I'll get base security on the phone and we'll work out a take-down scenario in case."

"Thank-you. My offer still stands. I have a lot of experienced agents that want to help."

"I'm sorry, but there are protocols that we have in place." Sagan said in repetition of his earlier refusal to let the FBI agents help. He changed the subject. "What have you found with the SUV?"

"We found a sailor's sea bag inside." Unfortunately there was no ID on either the bag or any of the contents.

"What was in it?"

"We found about a kilo of Cannabis and a small bag of white powder." Megan told him.

The captain was incredulous. "That's it? You think one or more of my crew has taken your boss and done who knows what with him, over that?"

"You'd be surprised what some people would do for something we'd consider minor in the scheme of things." Megan explained. "What would they be looking at for the gear?"

"Some time in confinement for sure, followed by a dishonourable discharge." Sagan sat behind his desk, still shaking his head. "If Special Agent Eppes stumbled onto them and they are holding him hostage then they would be looking at a very significant period of confinement, assuming he is unharmed. Not worth it." Clearly he had his doubts.

"Not worth it to us but there are those out there who are not prepared to spend any time in jail and will try whatever it takes to ensure that they are not caught or punished for their crimes." Megan had seen some of the extraordinary lengths that some criminals would go to trying to prevent paying for their crimes. It never seemed to register on them that if they didn't commit the crime in the first place there would be no problem.

"Alright Agent," Sagan got back down to business. He was hardly naive but he still found it hard to believe anyone would be foolish enough to compound their crime to such a degree. Especially not one of his sailors, the navy had minimum standards of intelligence. "I have some things to attend to. I've got your number and will let you know what we work out."

"Thanks Captain. I'll move my people off like you suggested."

-100-1111-1110-

Another hour or so crawled by before Martin returned. He'd changed into some civvies of his own, a jacket tied around his waist. "They've called it off." He announced smugly.

"The search? Already?" Tod seemed surprised.

So was Don. He expected the search to be immediately repeated and ramped up, the more times an areas was searched the higher the probability of finding the subject. _So much for Megan raising hell_. Hot on the heels of that thought came another, _Megan was up to something_. He managed to hide the slight smile, now that sounded more like his partner.

"Yep. They finally figured that our friend here has gone off somewhere."

"Then why'd they search for him here in the first place?"

"Some FBI chick got all hot under the collar and talked the captain into it." Martin explained. "All we have to do now is keep a 'sharp eye out'."

"Saunders." Tod commented.

"'Eagle-Eye' Saunders." Martin agreed.

Don silently listened as the two sailors shared what was obviously an in-joke.

"So, can we get out of here?" Tod asked eagerly. The time he'd spent cooped up with their hostage had been tedious and had felt like forever.

"I think now is good. Nearly everyone is down at the mess having a late dinner." Martin dug into a pocket and turned to their captive. Pulling out the pocket knife he crouched at Don's heels.

Don watched as Martin carefully cut off the length of rope leading up to the rope around his neck before cutting the rest of the rope away from his ankles. Martin sat back allowing Don to struggle up to a seated position. It was far from easy with his hands still secured to his belt and having stiffened up from lying still for so long but finally he managed.

Martin reached out and lifted the rope loop over his head. Don worked to stifle the sigh of relief he felt. But it was to be short lived. Martin untied the knot and quickly retied a sliding knot before putting the loop back around his neck. The new knot would allow Martin to tighten it simply by pulling on the trailing length. More worrying was that it would not loosen off by itself once tightened. He realised it was set up to be similar to a dog's choker lead. He'd been leashed.

He'd been told earlier that he was going with them, this was confirmation. His enforced wait had also given him some time to think, coming to the conclusion that he really didn't want to go with them off the ship. As to whether he would have any choice in the matter was up for debate.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Don offered.

"Sure, why not?" Martin's tone left little doubt what he thought of taking a suggestion from the FBI agent.

Regardless, Don pressed on. "Leave me here when you go."

"I don't think that is such a great idea."

"They know I am missing, right?" Don received a nod. "As soon as they see me they will know for a fact that I am not simply missing but being held against my will. They will also know for a fact that they are dealing with the pair of you and will work to resolve this. You leave me here, they will still not know where I am or whether or not anyone is involved in my disappearance. There will be nothing pointing to either of you at all. You will be able to walk off this ship without hindrance." Don wasn't concerned with capturing this pair at the moment, he knew who they were and they could be hunted down later. He was concerned at getting out of this unscathed. If what he suspected were to happen then he would be at great risk if Martin and his brother continued with their plan.

"He can identify us." Tod threw in. He raised the gun he still held. "We leave him here we have to shoot him."

"That would be an even bigger mistake." The agent said calmly. Truth be told, aside from the noise of the gunshot, it probably wasn't. With him dead it would take some time for his assailants to be identified. Given that option however, he preferred to take his chances with whatever Megan was planning. He just hoped she was working on an assumption close to what had really happened to him.

"Give me that!" Martin angrily took the Glock from the younger man. The weapon had been pointed towards the agent but the problem was that Martin had been between the agent and Tod at the time. He faced the agent again. "You're up to something."

"How?" Don countered. "How can I possibly be up to anything?"

The sailor didn't seem convinced and had already made up his mind. "We're taking you with us."

"Figures." Don muttered. He just couldn't get a break.

Martin reacted to the smart comment. He tugged on the rope causing it to tighten slightly. He saw the agent tense and felt back in control. He stood and took up the slack. "Get up."

Don struggled to get his feet under him and rise without pulling any further on the taut rope. Already the loop was about as tight as an uncomfortable tie meaning that there was not much room for it to go any tighter before he really would begin to strangle. His breathing rate was increasing along with his heart at the shot of adrenalin Martin's actions had caused. Once on his feet he concentrated on taking slower, deeper breaths. After he regained his control he felt he had to make another attempt to convince them to leave him here.

"As soon as someone sees me they will raise the alarm." The bright yellow letters across the back and on the sleeves of his windbreaker were hard to miss.

"Way ahead of you." Martin said, obviously pleased with himself as he used a finger and thumb to untie the jacket from around his waist. He handed it to Tod as his hands were a little full with the gun and the rope leash. "Put it on him."

Don had to take a step forward away from the wall to allow Tod to put the jacket on. It was zipped up over the top of his arms, hiding the fact that he was restrained. Tod then tucked the ends of the sleeves into the jacket pockets at his older brother's suggestion. Don had to admit, to himself, that it was an effective disguise. There was just the light rope trailing away from his neck to mar the image but he knew that if Martin stayed close enough it was unlikely anyone would even notice.

Martin tucked the gun into the front of his waistband and hung his shirt over the top. Another TV influence, very dangerous indeed but the agent wasn't going to comment. It worked in his favour if Martin accidentally shot something important. In fact, Don rather liked the idea.

"Let's go." The older sailor ordered once he was ready.

If it were possible there was even less sign of life as they travelled back through the corridors and up the companionways heading for the quarterdeck and the gangplank off the ship. The agent found it difficult to climb the stairs with no way of maintaining his balance and had to be assisted a couple of times to prevent him from falling. The resultant jolt of adrenalin each time meant that his legs were feeling well and truly rubbery by the time they halted at a point just prior to stepping out onto the quarterdeck.

.

_Just one more chapter to go…_


	5. Chapter 5

Numb3rs: Phobia

**Numb3rs: Phobia**

**Disclaimer** – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

-100-1111-1110-

Tod poked his head outside for a moment. "Just one on duty." He reported.

"Perfect. Okay Agent, you know the drill. Keep quiet and no fuss."

Furious at himself for being so easily controlled Don could only nod.

They moved out and towards the lone sailor standing behind what looked very much like a lectern upon which sat the register showing arrivals and departures from the ship. The sailor looked up from the magazine she was flicking through and swept her gaze across the three men approaching her. Was it Don's imagination or did her gaze linger on him for a moment longer?

"Evening." She greeted them evenly. "Names?"

"Martin, C. Martin, T. and Hollis, B." Martin provided smoothly.

She made some notations in her register. "What time are you due back onboard?"

"1500 Zulu."

Another notation followed by a smile. "Enjoy your shore leave."

At the light pressure on his back Don started forward towards the waiting gangplank. He looked across to the dock and saw under the floodlights that it was empty aside from some equipment that was obviously being readied to be moved onboard the ship. He glanced back towards the female sailor in time to see her take something from beneath her lectern and dart away into the shadows. Something was about to go down.

He was abruptly jerked to a halt by Martin who had mercifully grabbed a handful of his jacket rather than tugging at the rope. Don turned his attention back forward. The dock was no longer empty, helmeted heads and rifles now protruded over and around the equipment. There was a noise from above them and he twisted his head back to see more marines moving up on some of the superstructure. They were surrounded.

"You set us up." Martin accused, increasing the tension on the rope.

A hard object was shoved into his back as Don fought back a reflex to cough at the increased constriction. The agent managed to find his voice. "You had me under guard all evening. I didn't do anything."

Martin levelled a glare at his brother who shook his head.

"I didn't leave him for a second." Tod insisted. "They must have figured it out."

"Well, now you're going to earn your keep, Agent."

The object was removed from his back and moved up to the side of his head. The Glock was pressed in firmly as Martin turned him around slowly to show the Marines what they were up against.

"You will release the FBI agent and lay on the deck." A voice instructed from beside them.

Martin spun Don around so that the agent was between him and the speaker, an officer standing at the edge of a door in the superstructure peering at them over a levelled handgun.

"No! You will order them to let us pass or I'll kill the agent."

"Release the agent and lay on the deck." The officer repeated calmly and confidently.

"I've got a noose on him. I pull this and he won't be able to breathe so good." Martin threatened, showing the rope wrapped around his left hand. He gave the rope a tug in demonstration.

Don's hands tried to jerk upwards towards his neck as the rope tightened again but the cord binding them to his belt was not going to break any time soon. This time he couldn't prevent coughing as he now had to work to get air into his lungs. His hands twisted but there was no slack to be had, he was not getting his hands free. The panic threatened to return but he just managed to force it back down. _He was not going to die, the marines would ensure that_, he told himself. He had to believe that.

The officer pointedly clicked the safety off his weapon, the click unnaturally loud in the still night air. He firmed his aim. "Let the agent go."

Martin ignored the command, dragging Don slowly backwards towards the gangplank. There were the sounds of heavier weapons being readied and Martin came to a halt.

"Look at what you are facing." Don forced out. "Stop and think for a minute. Do you think they really won't shoot you just because I am here? Do you think that they won't hesitate to shoot through me if it stops you from proceeding any further?"

"They wouldn't dare." Martin responded. Don was sure he detected doubt creeping into his voice. He eyed off the heavily armed marines arrayed around them both on the ship and the dock. Tod was sticking close in beside him, the three of them making a tight group. A shot fired at either he or his brother was just as likely to strike the hostage.

"You know the way this works. They don't know what you are up to or what you have done." Don had given this a little thought and had an idea as to what might help Martin and his brother see the light and give up. It was possibly a little farfetched but in today's climate he thought it had a real chance at working. He forced some more air into his lungs. "What would it take for them to classify this as a terrorist incident? What are the navy SOP's for that? I'm sure they are more stringent than the FBI's."

"They won't shoot you."

"Yes they will. What do they care about one FBI agent if it would stop a terrorist?"

"We're not terrorists."

"They don't know that." Don pointed out. "I've been with you all evening and I don't know what you are up to. I think you are just a pair of idiots who've bitten off more than you can chew, but I don't _know_ that."

"Tell them, tell them we're not terrorists." Martin ordered.

Don almost laughed at that but it came out as coughs. "Like they would believe anything I say while you are holding a gun to my head."

Martin appeared to be at a loss. They really were in deeper than they could have imagined. To make matters worse their hostage had warned them this might happen and he'd blown it off.

Don decided to add a little more motivation. He'd noticed some movement as more people appeared on the dock. He knew his control couldn't last much longer. "Let's say you do get off this ship, past all these marines. Have a look at the dock, see those agents there? You won't get past them. We look after our own."

Megan noticed his gaze upon her. Despite the distance between them she read the message and pulled her weapon from her holster. The other agents followed suit. It may have been in breach of who knew how many naval regulations but Don knew Megan wouldn't care. Neither did he, the more weapons arrayed against Martin and his brother the better. Surely they couldn't be that stupid to not see that their position was hopeless. Their hostage was not sufficient to buy their way out of this situation.

"Chris?" Tod hissed fearfully. Don's words had found their mark. He shifted from foot to foot as if unsure whether to tuck in behind his brother and the hostage or to bolt for cover. "They're gonna kill us, Chris."

"I should have turned you in back in Hawaii before we left Pearl." Martin growled suddenly. "Now I'm going to spend the best years of my life in jail because of you!"

Abruptly Don was shoved forward hard. The rope around his neck jerked and tightened, his airway almost totally blocked. He stumbled and almost fell but held his footing. He turned and barely registered Martin tossing his gun aside before hitting his brother hard on the back of the head. Tod fell to the deck as Martin dropped to his knees hands behind his head. That was all he saw before his vision reduced to a pinprick.

_He couldn't breathe!_ The bloated and blackened face of Johan Fredericks was again all he could see. It was about to happen to him. He was going to look like that.

Don struggled in earnest against his bonds, his control slipping away. He was shoved again and started to fall before being grabbed and held upright. He tried to jerk away from the extra restraint but was held securely. There were voices but he couldn't understand them. Hands were at his neck and suddenly the pressure was gone, air flooded into his starved lungs. His legs buckled and he was lowered to the deck, supported in a seated position.

"Don. Don! Come on man, you're okay." Colby's voice emerged through the roaring in his ears.

There was a click and as his vision returned he saw a flash of silver in the light as Colby brought his pocket knife to bear, cutting carefully but quickly through the cord binding his wrists.

Once free Don immediately staggered to his feet and away, coughing and rubbing at his neck. He leant on the railing as he worked on regaining his composure after having lost it.

"Don?"

He didn't react to the soft voice at first.

"Don, you are okay." Megan insisted, reinforcing Colby's words. She carefully reached out a hand and touched his hunched back, rubbing in gentle circles when he didn't flinch. "The rope is gone, you can breathe. You are safe."

Finally he nodded. "Yeah. Safe." He repeated. _Safe, as long as he never went near a piece of rope again_. He knew that was silly, rope was not something to be afraid of. But for the moment he was happy to leave it at that.

-1101-101-111-1-1110-

He seemed to be calming. Megan guessed that there was more to this than just a near strangling. Don's panic and the way that he had shied away from the discarded rope when making his dash for the railing after being freed showed that this ran far deeper. Up until that moment he had seemed to be okay, in control as usual but with Don it was hard to tell just what he was really feeling. She would have to take this further and soon. But not right now.

"I'm good." Don lied as he straightened a moment later, mask firmly in place.

Under her hand Megan could still feel his muscles quivering and knew that this was artificial. "Don, I understand. And you know that I am here for you. We'll talk about this okay? When you're ready."

"I guess." He turned to her and she saw the mask slip slightly. "I never knew."

That sounded like an opening. Instead of moving back towards the others he turned back to the rail staring out over the dock and the surrounding buildings. Perhaps he wanted to talk now. "Don?"

The story spilled out, clipped and sounding almost like a report. Don was trying to distance himself from the memory of that man he'd seen strangled as a junior agent. When he told her how the sailors had deliberately used the rope against him knowing it would cause him psychological distress she momentarily turned her attention back to the two prisoners, eyes flashing in anger. Her expression was lost on the two men as they were being searched after being secured, almost completely obscured behind the marines.

"Don you have nothing to be ashamed about." She told him when he finished. That was the main gist she got from the way he'd spoken of his reaction. There was also the fact that, knowing Don, he would have felt humiliated by displaying such fear in front of his team and worse, in front of offenders. She knew he always needed to be in control but the fear had handed it over to the sailors.

"I don't know, Megan. I was pretty useless."

"Not useless, Don. Cautious. You had to be very careful and you pulled it off. You got them to surrender and you survived." She'd not heard any of what he'd said to the two sailors as they stood on the quarterdeck under all the guns but whatever it was it had worked.

He'd even been in control enough to send her a message during that standoff, a message that had resulted in her going against the instructions given her by the marine commander and drawing her weapon. The other agents with her had all followed her lead. There was no way she would have fired from that range; it was difficult to be accurate with a handgun over longer distances. She was not prepared to risk that collateral damage. Drawing her weapon had been purely a show of force, she'd been confident that was what Don wanted.

His hand went again to the red welt around his neck, rubbing gently. She suspected he didn't even feel the angry welts on his wrists, easily visible in the light cast from the spotlights. A sailor with a red cross on a white armband started their way carrying a medical bag. David and Colby who were standing nearby headed him off before Don even saw him, knowing that the senior agent would refuse to be seen to now. They would take him the hospital on the way home.

"Felt pretty useless." Don insisted. "Letting two jerks like that get control over an experienced agent."

"Don, listen to me." That had been a big admission from him, even if he had put it in third person. It was also a sign of how badly he was taking this. "Any of us would have done the same, me, David or even Colby. The threat of strangulation is not something to be taken lightly. Nothing you did was wrong. As to that man who died all those years ago we can deal with that."

Don turned and looked at David and Colby, he would easily notice that they were set to run interference if anyone tried to approach before he was ready. He relaxed slightly, it seemed he had been expecting to see pity but what he would see was respect and understanding. They may not have heard the story behind the depth of his reaction, but they were going to stand by him, just as she was. They were a team and team members supported one another.

He straightened again, his expression not a forced mask this time. "Thanks, Megan."

"Boss, anytime." She reiterated. "Let's go. We can talk to the navy cops tomorrow."

That earned her a small smile. "That's the best suggestion I've heard all evening."

With David and Colby's help they got Don past the marines, shielding Don's view of his assailants, and onto the dock. The waiting FBI agents followed as they made their way to the parking lot and got Don ensconced into the front passenger seat of their car. Don's SUV would have to wait for forensic examination before he would get it back. He was in no fit state to drive so he would have to be a passenger but Megan was well aware that the back seat would be too much of a concession for him to make.

She made her promises to the navy cop that had followed them, satisfying his concerns and giving a very quick version of Don's treatment at the hands of the two sailors before they drove off the base.

It had been some afternoon.

.

_A/N: Short I know, but it was something quick that wanted to be written. Thanks for the replies on the phobia question, __**Pnigerophobia**__ or __**Pnigophobia **__(the fear of choking/smothering) would be the closest to what Don experienced. _

_Thanks as always for reading and reviewing and most of all, for enjoying the tale. _


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